


Repo! One Shots

by the_Mad_Majesty_of_Muchness



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: F/M, GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVES, One Shot Collection, contains a LOT of headcanons, each one takes place in a different year, grilo - Freeform, it's my job, mostly about Graves, random timeline jumps, to steal and rob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6547579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_Mad_Majesty_of_Muchness/pseuds/the_Mad_Majesty_of_Muchness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Repo! one-shots that contain a lot of headcanons, most of which are about Graverobber, and which are also full of Grilo goodness. Each one takes place in a different year during Shilo and Graverobber's lifetimes, and most are post-Opera. Will be updated as ideas for new one-shots strike me and get written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dixie (Year: 2047)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so whenever it talks about Terrance and/or Allan, that's Graverobber. My headcanon about his name is that his first name is Terrance, and his middle name is Allan, but he doesn't like his first name very much, so he goes by his middle name when he's not being Graverobber. The only person who doesn't call him Allan is his godsister, who continues calling him Terrance for the express purpose of irritating him. :P AAAAAnd...I think that's all you need to know before you get started. Enjoy!

Allan knew that it probably wasn't his greatest idea ever to go poking around in a graveyard, of all places, especially since he might be mistaken for a graverobber, even at fifteen years old. But he was just so curious about the girl he'd seen go in there—her hair was bubblegum fucking pink, for Christ sakes!

_It'll be quick,_ he told himself. _Just go in, get a better look at her, then run the hell back out, end of story._

Only he hadn't counted on her laying a huge wad of cash down on top of a headstone and then carelessly turning her back on it.

He hadn't eaten in nearly thirty-six hours and was starving. There was enough money there to buy food for both himself and his half-brother and still have some leftover for later.

_Dammit._

Okay, new plan: Filch the cash and run. He'd pick-pocketed plenty of times in the last two years, it would be easy!

Allan slowly crept closer, one hand outstretched. Keeping his eyes on the girl, he brought his hand down slowly. His fingers closed around the money, and he turned, fully prepared to run for it as if hell itself was nipping at his heels. He'd hardly made it two feet, however, when he suddenly felt a hand grab his wrist. He turned, his blue eyes wide.

"And just where do you think you're going, scrawny?" the girl asked.

_So close._

"Please," he said, "you don't understand, my brother and I haven't had anything to eat in almost two whole days. We're starving, lady!"

She narrowed her eyes and studied him closely. 

"What's your name?" she asked finally.   
"Allan," he replied.

"Got a last name that goes with that?"  
"Zatovich."  
"Where's your parents, Allan Zatovich?"  
"Dead. Godparents, too."  
"How old are you?"  
"Fifteen."  
"And your brother?"  
"Nineteen."

She rolled her eyes.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered. "Alright, look, kid, I don't usually do charity work, 'specially not to orphans, but I guess I could buy you some food. I might even teach you how to get it on your own without having to steal other people's moolah, how's that sound?"

Allan shrugged indifferently.

"Look, you can either take what I'm offering, or I'll turn you over to the GeneCops, which would you prefer?" the girl said.

"Are those my only options?"  
"Yep. Now hurry up and pick one."

"I'll take the first one."

"Great! I'm Dixie. Now listen, and listen damn good. This here is Zydrate, and it comes in a little glass vial..."


	2. Gold Ship (Year: 2057)

"Happy birthday, Shi," Graverobber said, holding out a small rectangular box. Shilo smiled at him, and his heart melted a tiny bit.

"Thanks, Graves," she said as she took it from him. "You didn't have to get me anything, you know."  
"Yeah, I know, but I saw this and thought you'd like it since it reminded me of...well...Just open it, you'll see," he replied.

She smiled again, taking the lid off and unwrapping the tissue paper that was inside to reveal a gold necklace with a pirate ship charm on it.

"It's beautiful," she said. "It reminds me of—"

"The song," they said together.

"I know," Graverobber said. "That's why I got it."  
"I...I don't know what to say, Graves, I mean...Thank you."  
"You're welcome. Here, let me help you put it on."

She took the necklace from its box and handed it to him. He undid the clasp, then parted her hair in the back and put it around her neck. After he was done, she turned around to let him see it, and he grinned.

"Looks even better than I imagined," he said, and then didn't give her a chance to reply before kissing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song they refer to is "In All My Dreams I Drown" from The Devil's Carnival.


	3. Marni, I Need You Now (Year: 2039)

She was crying again.

Nathan got up and ran down the hall to the nursery, fumbling with his glasses along the way. He quickly gathered his newborn daughter up in his arms and paced around with her, making what he hoped were soothing sounds and a calming rocking motion.

She had her mother's eyes.

He would have given anything to have Marni back, for his daughter's sake as well as his own. He didn't know how to take care of a baby, for Lord's sake, what if he made another fatal mistake and killed the child, too? Then what reason would he have to even live? It was bad enough he'd killed his beloved Marni...

"Shh...Please calm down, baby."

God, the poor child didn't even have a name yet, that's how incompetent he was at this. What were some of the names Marni had talked about? He knew one had started with an S-H. Sherri? Shannon? No...Think, dammit! What was it? Ah-ha!

Shilo.

That was it; he remembered now, she had liked it because it was uncommon and unique and she'd thought it was beautiful. She'd also liked that it was unisex, because they hadn't known at the time what their baby's gender was.

"Shh...It's alright, Shilo...you're alright...I've got you..."

The baby calmed and blinked at him, as if she understood that her name had just been given to her, spoken for the first time.

Or maybe he just wasn't so bad at this parenting thing, after all.


	4. Just Smack It (Year: 2056, Post-Opera)

"Good, good. Now smack it into the skull."

So sure and confident up until then, Shilo froze suddenly. Graverobber was teaching her to do what he did, and they were crouched on the ground together behind a headstone, the extractor in her hands, hovering just over the dead body they were working with.

"You hear me, kid? Smack it—"  
"Into the skull, I heard. But..."  
"Up the nasal cavity, Shi, come on, you can do it."  
"I don't think...  
"It's easy."  
"Graverobber..."

He had been beside her up until then, but now, he repositioned himself behind her, reaching around and taking her hands in his, showing her how to hold the extractor in the proper position, his grip surprisingly gentle as he adjusted the positioning of her slender fingers. 

"It's easy," he repeated, "like putting a needle into a bug. I'll show you."

Before she could ask what he meant, he swiftly guided her hands toward the corpse's nostril, helping her shove the needle in, perhaps with a bit more force than was necessary, and Shilo gasped at how unexpected it was. A GeneCop's beam swept quickly towards them, and Graverobber's reaction was instantaneous as he covered Shilo's mouth with his hand and pushed her down, laying on top of her, but in a way that kept it so she wasn't crushed by his weight.

"Don't. Make. A sound," he whispered through his teeth.

For what felt like an eternity, they lay there like that, bodies pressed together in the dirt. Shilo was acutely aware of his breath stirring the hair of her wig, of his own hair falling over both their shoulders and hanging right beside her face, of his distinct smell assaulting her nostrils—he smelled leather mixed with sweat and damp graveyard dirt and the metallic tang of Zydrate; the resulting scent was both strange and comforting at the same time.

Then, with a brush of his leather coat against her arm, both he and that scent were gone as the GeneCops passed them by.

As Shilo sat up, Graverobber pulled the extractor from the nose of the corpse and quickly put it away.

"You did a good job tonight, kid," he said, and then did something she never in a million years would have expected him to do. "Come on. Let's get outta here before they come back."

Shilo touched the spot on her cheek where he'd kissed her, electricity sparking through her fingertips, then blinked to snap herself out of it, got up, and followed him.


	5. Uncle Zack (Year: 2058)

"Hey, who's this you're with in this picture?" Shilo asked. She and Graverobber were trying to clean out the closet some, but weren't having much luck so far.

He held his hand out, and she gave him the photo.

"That's not me," he said almost immediately.

"But it looks just like—"  
"It's my uncle."

"Oh. What about those other people?"  
"My parents. Funny. I thought all the pictures of Zack were thrown out or destroyed when I was a kid. I haven't seen him since I was five. He and Dad fought and fell out with each other and he just...abandoned us. Didn't even come to either of my parents' funerals."

There was a long pause, then Graverobber began tearing the photo up.   
"What are you doing?" Shilo asked him.

He didn't even look at her as he replied, "Burying the past."


	6. Hair Dye, Pt. 1 (Year: 2046)

Allan stared at his fingers. They were stained Zydrate blue from the hair dye. He looked up, and his reflection stared back at him through a mess of brown-and-blue hair hanging in his face, obscuring his eyes.

"Allan?" a voice called. "Honey, can I come in?"

Without waiting for an answer, his mother opened his bedroom door.

_"Terrance Allan Zatovich, what did you do to your hair?!"_

He stared at her past the mess hanging in his face, his gaze solid and unflinching. "I dyed it," he said calmly.

"Well, I can see that, but why?!"  
"Because I wanted to. I'm ten years old now, Mom, I can do what I—"  
"Don't you _dare_ tell me you can do what you want, young man! You live in my house by my rules, is that clear?!"

He mumbled something incoherent.

"Terrance! Is that clear?"  
"...Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now you march yourself downstairs and explain this to your father, you understand? Go on, march!"

Years later, he would be known and recognized by his distinct multicolored hair as well as his clothing and makeup. But for now, he was destined to remain a simple brunett.


	7. Hair Dye, Pt. 2 (Year: 2057)

It began with a simple statement; "I want to dye my hair."

Graverobber didn't understand why and told her as much, saying that she had such beautiful black hair, so why change it? Shilo replied that changing it wasn't her intention.

"Then," he asked, "what is?"

"I want streaks," she told him, "kind of like yours, but different. I want streaks of neon blue."

Since stopping her "medicine" the year before, Shilo's hair had grown out long and black and beautiful and soft to the touch. She could braid it, put it in a ponytail, anything she pleased. And here she was wanting to streak it the color of Zydrate.

"You do your own hair dye, right?" she asked. "Will you help me do mine? Please?"

So that's exactly what he did.


	8. Warmth (Year: 2049)

Mag was heading through her front gate when she heard it—a sort of grunting sound accompanied by two male voices, one older than the other. They seemed to be arguing.

"Well, if you hadn't gotten caught—"  
"You told me to do it, dumbass!"  
"That didn't mean to let yourself be seen!"  
"It wasn't my fault!"  
"Well, it's your fault we ain't eatin' tonight!"

She watched as two teenagers, one obviously younger, came wandering down the street, the younger one moving with a slight limp that favored his right leg.

"I barely escaped with my life," he was saying, "and all you can think about is—Holy shit, is...is that Blind Mag?"

They were both grungy, one with hair to his shoulders and the other with hair longer than that. They were lanky and, yes, even somewhat gaunt, with high cheekbones and other shared characteristics suggesting they were somehow related. One notable difference, however, was that while the older one was dark-eyed, the younger had light blue eyes that stared in open awe and curiosity. He had to be cold, she thought, with only a hoodie for warmth. Almost without even realizing it, she approached them. 

"What are your names?" she asked.

"N-Nick," the older one said, "and this is my brother Allan."

Ah, so they were related, after all.

"Is your leg alright?" she asked, directing it at Allan. He blinked, then nodded.

"Twisted ankle," he explained. "I've had worse. Are you really—"

Mag reached into her purse and pulled some money out, pressing it into Nick's hand and giving a gentle squeeze. "Buy yourselves a hot meal," she said, "and a coat for your brother. It gets cold on this island."

So saying, she turned and went into her house, watching through the window until the boys had disappeared around a corner.


	9. He Gave Her Sight (Year: 2038)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from the lyrics of "Meadowlark" by Sarah Brightman.

Mag opened her eyes slowly as she began regaining consciousness.

She could _see._

She was laying in a bed in a room with white walls and machines around her, and there was another woman dozed off in a chair nearby. A pretty brunette with curly hair and soft features. Mag wondered who she was.

She took the wires out of her arms, and the heart monitor began to flatline as she put her legs over the side of the bed, bare feet touching the cold linoleum floor.

"Mag?"

She turned at the familiar voice. The brunette was awake, watching her with an almost expectant look on her face.

"Marni?"  
"Yes, it's me, Mag. How do you feel?"  
"I...You're beautiful, Marni."

The door opened, and a man came in along with a pair of Genterns and a SurGEN.

"She's awake, Rotti," Marni said, "and she can see! It worked!  
"How do you feel, Miss DeFoe?" the SurGEN asked.

Mag considered the question for a moment.

"Reborn," she said.


	10. To Change Inside (Year: 2046)

"Daddy, can I have surgery?" Carmela Largo asked. 

Rotti looked up at his youngest with surprise written across his face.

"What do you want surgery for?" he asked. "You're fine the way you are now."

It was, in his opinion, true. Sixteen-year-old Carmela had long black hair like her brother Pavi's, shared the same eyes as her mother Gianna, and had Gianna's lovely complexion, as well. Why change any of that? She looked the way she ought—like a Largo.

"All the other girls are doing it," Carmela said reasonably, "and besides, don't I get to be the prettiest? Please, Daddy?"

Rotti sighed.

"Oh, alright," he said. "I suppose it couldn't hurt just this once."  
"Yay! Thank you, Daddy, thank you so much, I love you so much!"

"You're welcome, Carmela."

"Oh, didn't I tell you? I've decided I want to be called Amber now."


	11. Goth Opera (Year: 2056)

Graverobber sat on a rooftop, having used the fire escape on the building to get there. He was watching the Genetic Opera on the floating screens above the city as he drank the beer he'd brought with him and chowed down on some beef jerky. When Amber Sweet's face fell off, he snorted so hard with laughter that beer sprayed right out of his nose.

He recognized the kid immediately. 

Shilo. So that was her name. Pretty, he thought. It seemed to fit her well.

A lot of people, he knew, might accuse him of being stone-hearted, or even without a heart entirely, but they'd be wrong; it was just that he'd learned how to behave with indifference towards the world, which helped him to survive. But he found that pity tore at his heart as he watched what the kid was being put through, and he even found himself a bit angry at the crowd as well as at Rotti Largo—Did nobody in that damn audience have a scrap of pity for the girl, did none of them care enough to even _try_ to put a stop to the horrible shit that was happening to her?

He had to help her somehow. 

His mind made up, he abandoned his beer and jerky on the room and set off into the night with his usual confident swagger.


	12. Prints (Year: 2048)

"My young apprentice," Dixie said. She and Allan, now known on the streets as Graverobber, were sitting at the end of an abandoned dock at the harbor together, facing one another with, to Allan's confusion, their palms facing up; then again, that was Dixie for you. The girl marched to the beat of a completely different drum that seemed to pound out random beats with no rhyme or reason to them. 

"The time has come," she was saying, "for the final step in your journey to true graverobber-dom. Once doing this, there is no turning back. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

There was a long pause, which he knew was only for dramatic effect.

"You need new fingerprints," Dixie said.

Allan blinked. 

"Wait, what? Why?"

"So that they can't be traced to you, of course, use your head, dumbass!"  
"But I've never—I made a pact with Nick and Jem, no surgeries, ever, at all!"

"Would you rather stick to that and run a higher risk of getting caught and thereby also putting them in danger, or break it and help further ensure their safety as well as your own?"

Allan considered carefully. On the one hand, he didn't want to owe GeneCo any money and risk becoming a ninety-day delinquent. But then again, his family's safety meant the world to him. If anything ever happened to Jem or Nick, especially because of him...

"Alright," he said. "I'll do it."


	13. I Promised Your Late Wife (Year: 2039)

"Mag, can I ask a favor of you?"  
"Of course, Marni. Anything, just name it."  
"Will you be this baby's godmother?"

Mag was both shocked and delighted by the question.

"Nate and I talked it over," Marni said, "and we agreed that should anything ever happen to us, you're the one we'd want looking after our child."

"I...I'd be honored to. Of course I will, Marni."

Of course, Marni was very sick at the moment, propped up in bed while she and Mag talked, but Nathan was working on a cure, and both women had absolute confidence in his abilities.

"And Mag?"  
"Yes, Marni?"

"No matter what happens...even if I don't make it...promise me you'll be a part of this baby's life. If worse comes to worst, help Nate raise the baby. Be the mother it will need if I'm not around to play the part."

Mag gave her friend's hand a gentle squeeze. "Nonsense," she said. "You'll make it out of this just fine. But I promise, just the same. If it's what makes you happy, then I promise."

Marni smiled. "Thank you, Mag," she said.


	14. The All-Seeing Sun (Year: 2058)

"Why me?" Shilo asked. 

Graverobber looked up at her.

"Why you what?" he replied.

"You're you," she said. "You can have your pick of sexy, beautiful girls, and you pick plain, boring old me. Why? It doesn't make any sense."

"It does to me."  
"But why? I'm...normal."  
"Then normal is beautiful."  
"You deserve better."   
"Hey, now, that's my line, don't go stealing it from me!"

Shilo laughed, but then sobered up.

"There are so many women who are so much more beautiful than me out there, Graves," she said.

Graverobber frowned.

"'One fairer than my love?'" he said. "'The all-seeing sun ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.'"

"Did you just quote Shakespeare to me?"  
"Jem's rubbed off on me over the years."

"You realize that particular romance lasted like three days and about six people died, right?"  
"Doesn't matter. That line was written specifically about you, Bug, I can feel it in my gut."

"You're stupid."  
"Love you, too."


	15. Death is My Business and Business is Good (Year: 2049)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is basically a song-fic inspired by "Grave Robber At Large" by Creature Feature.

Allan had quickly risen through the ranks of the graverobbing hierarchy that existed in the city, going from being a nobody, a mere apprentice, to practically the king of the back alleys in just two years. At a mere seventeen years of age, he had accomplished things that put him above people twice his age who had been graverobbing since before he was even born. He had certainly earned the right to be called _the_ Graverobber.

He had learned early on that the fresher the corpse, the better the Zydrate, so skeletal remains were stale and worthless to him; freshness was key, timing was instrumental, and with corpses left to the elements, a matter of mere hours could plummet the price for him.

He did it for the money, nothing else. It was better than barely scraping by as a pickpocket, at least. The fact that it was illegal was merely...incidental, as far as he was concerned by that point.

Sure, it was a bit...perverse, to say the least, but he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty.

Did it bother him that he was desecrating peoples' bodies for profit? A little, but he managed to sleep soundly. Others might struggle to keep their conscience, but not him. Not with the garden of glowing blue riches hiding underground.

After all, there was a profit to be made from the recently deceased.


	16. No One Knows What It's Like (Year: 2055)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one that's technically a song-fic, this time set to "Behind Blue Eyes" by Limp Bizkit.

For nearly five years, Allan had been Graverobber. For three of them, the king of the hierarchy that existed among the city's Zydrate dealers, achieving his high rank at only seventeen years of age and two years of the job under his belt; quite an impressive feat indeed.

He acted the way he'd learned quickly that he must in order to make this lifestyle work for him. He put on a show of being the coarse, ill-mannered vagabond that most people assumed him to be, flirted back with the scalpel sluts, accepted "alternative pay" from those strapped for cash, and last year, when he was eighteen, had even started wearing a mask of cosmetics at about the same time he first threw together what was now his signature outfit.

But that was the Graverobber.  
Allan was different.

No one knew what it was like for him, fated to lie about himself in so many ways. No one understood how he felt, nobody bit back, he often thought bitterly, on anger as much or as hard as he did, and he had to be strong and not let his pain show through his carefully constructed facade. Nobody knew how mistreated he felt by the world, or how often he often felt the crushing weight of having been defeated by some higher power with a cruel sense of humor. No one seemed to know how to say they were sorry anymore, or even "don't worry."

And no one, not even Nick and Jem, knew that a world of suffering lay hidden behind his blue eyes.


	17. Contacts (Year: 2056, Post-Opera)

Graverobber nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Shilo scream. 

Great. Another nightmare. Poor kid had barely gone a single night without them in the week since the Genetic Opera.

Without even realizing what he was still holding, he left his room and went into the guest room, where she'd been staying. When he got there, he looked at the objects in his hand, shook his head, put them on the dresser, then sat down on the bed next to a crying Shilo and pulled her into a hug as per the routine they'd developed for this situation.

After she had gotten most of it out of her system and her sobs had turned to mere sniffles, she suddenly asked, "What's that?"

Her chin was resting on his shoulder and she was looking behind him, so he had to turn around to see what she meant.

"Contact case and solution," he said upon figuring it out.

"Whose?"  
"Mine."  
"You wear contacts?"  
"Yeah, see?"

He took one out and held it on his fingertip to show her, then got up and put it in the case after cleaning it with the solution, then repeated the process with the other one and shut the case.

"Why do you have contacts?" Shilo asked.

"Because I'm blind, duh," he replied, then shook his head with a grin. "No, I'm just messin' with ya. I have a minor case of mixed astigmatism and all the glasses I've owned in the past always ended up getting broken in sibling fights when I was a kid. So, my mom and the optometrist I saw back then decided that contacts would be better since they wouldn't get busted up if my sister decided to throw me headfirst down the stairs and into a wall. I've worn these things since I was like six years old, no joke."

"What's mixed asti...uh..."  
"Mixed astigmatism is where you're nearsighted in one eye and farsighted in the other. For me, my left is nearsighted and my right is far."

Shilo got up and wandered over, taking the bottle of solution in her hands and studying it, then looking up at him.

"So," she said, "the great and powerful Graverobber has a weakness, after all."

He spread his arms out as if to say, _Hey, you got me._

"Even Superman," he said humbly, "has Kryptonite."


	18. Certain Things in Life (Year: 2059)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song "Yamaha" by Delta Spirit.

Graverobber was pissed. He and Shilo had gotten into a big fight that had ended with him storming out the front door not as Graverobber, but as Allan, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie with the hood up to hide his distinct hair, no trace of makeup anywhere on his face.

They'd argued before, of course, just like any other couple. But in all three years since the Opera, he couldn't recall things ever escalating to such a degree as they had tonight.

He'd never acted so cold with her before, he knew that. She was probably in disbelief from it—he certainly was. 

_But,_ he thought, _sometimes we have to face feelings we don't want to, even when they make us not care if we get up again._

At twenty-three years old, Allan was wise beyond his years and, in Jem's words, older than his age. He knew a lot more about more than he ever let on while in the Graverobber persona, and he preferred the fact that most people thought him to be a largely ignorant and, yes, even uneducated man. Smart as he was behind the charade, though, there were a thousand things he knew he'd never understand.

Like, for example, why someone as pure and innocent as Shilo Wallace had been unceremoniously and cruelly forced into the world the way she had three years ago.

Or what'd done to deserve her. What made him worthy.

Now she was dealing with another hell, one that _he_ had put her through, and even though she'd faced ultimate hell at the Genetic Opera, she shouldn't have to deal with any other hell, however small it may be. If he had his way, he would be right next to her, but she probably wasn't ready to see him yet after what had happened, so he had to content himself with working out what to say when he finally did go back.

Funny, he thought as he glanced at a propaganda poster, how people could alter so much about themselves these days, and yet certain things in life could never be changed, no matter how hard a person might try.

He stopped walking and sighed. He'd spent too many nights alone in his life already. He wasn't about to let his own stupid mistake add yet another. He turned and went back the way he'd come.They'd argued about something, he'd been too proud to admit she was right. If only his patience hadn't already been worn thin by the Zydrate junkies. He'd acted so damn stubborn, locked into place on the subject like a brake. He'd left to clear his head, but when he was away from her...

He went into the house, threw his hoodie on the couch, and went upstairs with a determined stride. As she came out of the bathroom at the end of the hall, he caught her by the shoulders and kissed her hard on the mouth, only pulling back when it became difficult to breathe.

"You were right," he said breathlessly. "I'm sorry I acted like that, I was—I _am_ an idiot, and I'm sorry. I never should've yelled at you, and I never should have left, because there are certain things I just can't take, and life without you is Number One on that list. I love you, Shilo."

She said nothing, instead just pulling him down for another kiss. 

And that, he knew, meant all was forgiven.


	19. What's In a Name (Year: 2059)

Shilo closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the salty ocean air as she and Allan sat together on a rock along the shoreline. She had come to love the ocean almost as much as he did, especially the cool spray against her skin.

"Hey, Shilo?" 

She opened her eyes and looked at her boyfriend.

"Yeah?"

"I don't really like your name," Allan said.  
Shilo blinked, then frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Particularly your last name."  
"What's wrong with my last name?" she demanded.  
He shrugged. "Dunno. Just...doesn't really suit you. You should change it."

_"Change_ it?"  
"Yep."  
"To what?!"  
"Zatovich."

And with that, he hopped off the rock and began making his way down the beach without a single backwards glance. 

Shilo blinked several times.

"Did you just...Did you just _propose_ to me?!" she yelled.

He laughed, but didn't look back or stop walking. She leapt up and went racing after him.

"Get back here! Oh my God, are you smirking?! Where the hell do you think you're going, huh?! I said get back here, you little shit!"


End file.
